Noblesse Oblige
by Margo Duncan
Summary: It is the moral obligation of those of high birth to act with honor, but on whose behalf? Fic for the Walt Disney movie. COMPLETED.
1. A Life Misled

Dear Readers,

Hello again! Below is another story I've been dreaming up for quite some time, and I could no longer help but post it. Every time I watch Mary Poppins, this story always comes to mind, and so I decided to finally go about starting it. While this story may seem like a oneshot, please realize that it **will** continue for just a few chapters. If you've seen my profile page, this is the "other story" I talk about writing before the sequel of _Practically Perfect, Penned and Priced_.

If you have read _Penned and Priced_, I thank you heartily and welcome you back! Just please realize, this story is **not**affiliated **at all **with my previous Mary Poppins story. It is an entirely seperate entity. However, it is still based entirely on the Walt Disney movie.

And so, I begin the story. I know it may seem a bit unconventional, but I just could not help myself.

Thank you all once again! Please enjoy!

-Margo Duncan

* * *

When a dream falls within one's grasp, the atmosphere seems frozen in perfection. Thus it could be said the balmy summer evening and the social that unfurled atop it - for George Banks Junior, at least - was peerless to any other evening in a lifetime. Nearly every one of the man's friends and acquaintances in London could be found somewhere within the residence of the party's subsidiser, who himself was a long endeared and highly valued business partner of George Banks Senior. As if the copious stars were not enough, the great walled courtyard where he stood was illuminated with the light of the sitting room just beyond a pair of glass doors. These Mister Banks turned to for assistance in location an absent person, the piece de resistance of that blessed night, but the iridescent curtains stood guard against his prying. His brows contracted across his granite forehead in accompaniment with a scowl. Averting his attention from the group that surrounded him for but a moment longer, the wishful gentleman glanced over the occupants of the patio. Resined bows of the distant musicians could still be heard enticing sweet notes from the instruments they fed on, and several dancing couples had yet to flee the night air for the sanctuary of the home's interior where further amusement was to be found. The smiles and jewels of these remaining ladies helped also to expel darkness from the evening, but it was not until a moment later that a glimmer caught the eye of George Banks, causing him to confirm to himself that no other treasure could bring further worth to his life.

He allowed his attention to be brought back to the men that had congregated with him just in time to witness the approach of his vision to the nearest of them. The click of heels subsided and the conversation ended, all stopping to beam at the gold-clad beauty that dazzled the atmosphere with her sudden presence. She smiled in kind, but her eyes fell upon one man in particular. Past the most youthful and dapper she looked, away from those with the tightest bonds to aristocracy and power. It appeared that to her only George Banks existed, and when he extended an arm to her they silently glided away, desiring no additional company than each other.

"There's something I just don't understand," George confided in a whisper after he had pressed a side of his smooth face to the woman's own and, after finding himself in her gloved arms, allowed his feet to fall into the music's rhythm. His gaze fell into the ginger curls that draped her ear.

"And you're a clever man," she noted with factuality. "What could that be?"

George's unfocused eye caught the murky form of the group he had departed from as he swayed, and the smile that resulted was detectable by the lady in his words of reply. "I don't understand how it comes to be that a good portion of my acquaintances, consisting of those up to fifteen years younger than I - with greater fortunes and higher positions might I had - would kill for the attention of the woman who has given her heart . . . to me! Of all people!"

The pair continued to dance, though drew apart enough to view each other's faces. George continued to muse as his partner surveyed him. Starting from his slicked back ebony hair, she penetrated his inquisitive eyes with her own before glancing down the prominent slope of his nose to the rest of his soft and pallid visage. She had stolen his grin, which was now replaced with lips pursed in thought. The woman chuckled deeply, brining the man out of his reverie.

"Well?" He inquired. "Certainly you can enlighten me!"

"Again?" she groaned in mock exasperation before returning her own cheek to his. "Well, I suppose. It is fairly obvious, is it not? You are the only man I know who can accrue interest and then successfully invest it in worthwhile enterprises. What is most important, though, is the fact that you can do all of that outside of the bank as well as within it. You have a wonderful insight, Mister Banks, and now I'm done flattering you."

He laughed. "Oh, Mem!" He continued, tightening his grasp around her. "You are the only woman who could ever understand what I do. There's a whole world inside that bank, and look. It spills over to the world out here, as well. Just by looking at any one of these guests I could tell you what their bank statements and vaults contain. Wealth affects people in the most methodical and yet absolutely senseless ways. I see it every single day. I learn how people operate and how to play their little games. Oh, it's a horrid world, Mem, but it's all so intriguing! A bank is not entirely about rates per annum and abdonment and net change. Though I must say, it's quite easy to submerge yourself into all of that and never come out."

"Then it is my duty to make sure you never do," she insisted, serenely closing her eyes.

George's heart leapt into his throat. "You mean that, Mem?" He spoke his words into her luxurious hair. "You're not just leading an old fool like me on, are you?"

"I most certainly am not - though I don't understand under what pretenses you consider yourself old, Mister Banks. You speak as if you could be my grandfather."

"I could nearly be your father," George hurried to retort.

"And this fears you so much? You exude youth, Mister Banks. No, not when you're decorously conducting business or chatting with the bank officers, but every once in awhile - when you allow yourself to show some happiness - you get that boyish gleam in your eye. Or like right now, when you contort your face into that youthful sort of befuddlement."

George realized that the two had stopped dancing, and Mem, leading them away was once again smiling up at him.

"I love you, Mem," he insisted, linking the fingers of his hand with her own.

"Very good, George," came her nonchalant reply. "Because I love you with everything in my being."

As the two strolled down the garden steps, enough resplendent light and festivity could be avoided to permit for an affectionate parting. The love of George's life placed a hand gently on his cheek before pressing her lips to his own.

"Good night, George," she offered, an undertone of reluctance puncturing her words.

"Good night, Mem." Once he had spoken, the woman's hand began to retreat back to her side. George was quick to snatch it, however, and plant a kiss on its knuckles, thus extending the happiest night of his life by one more loving moment. For, in truth, it would end far too quickly.

* * *

It was long after George Junior's ears lost the sound of skirts rustling against the stone ground when he was met by none other than his father, George Senior, who had apparently exited the house looking for him, having completed his own affairs. Most of the party had made their exodus, and those that remained had all nearly surrendered to the night and gone inside. George Junior had at first, too, but his excited mind led him swiftly back out. For a long while, he had encountered no one in his pacing. That is, until the figure identical to his own - albeit more silverish and graven - stopped him dead. The father released a frightening sort of smile and clasped an arm around his namesake's shoulders.

"Thinking about Meriam, are you?" He would eventually ask.

"As a matter of fact I am," the younger George responded in a distracted state. "I suppose I should tell you before someone else does. She agreed to marry me tonight."

George Senior laughed, an act which proved just as chilling as his smiling. "Did she? Ah . . . if only I had known about this, I would have been able to intervene earlier."

Suddenly, the younger man snapped out of his stupor. "Intervene?" His father sighed and released his arm.

"My lad, you're thirty-four years old. You've waited this long to take a wife, you can wait a little longer - just until you find one who will better compliment your achievements so far. You've worked hard for the family name, I can't deny that, but I also cannot let you destroy what we and countless other Banks have dedicated their lives to."

"Whatever do you mean? There is no lady more preferable than Meriam! Her family's old money, certainly you know that. You've covetously maintained their account in our bank for years." While this quality certainly was not what attracted his love to him, George knew that it was logic against which his father could not mold an objection. At least, he did not think George Senior could.

"Her family's built on more than money, George. There's something queer about all of them, her too, and I don't trust them. They're very good acquaintances to have, but binding ourselves too closely to them would be a grievous error. You're not to further associate with that girl. There's some sort of funny business about them, and I don't think you should risk tarnishing your reputation, least of all the family's. You know the love I have for you, but it cannot be. Make your choice, and if it must be her, than I myself will have no option but to sever you from this family. Money can be acquired elsewhere if need be, my boy, but reputation? Not so easily."

* * *

And George did make his choice. He bided his time. Eventually life unfolded for him as his father wished it would, and life in the Banks family remained surprisingly pleasant for all. After a heart wrenching parting, his beloved Meriam was all but forgotten after he quickly took a more formidable bride. His father had been right, after all. Money could be acquired elsewhere if need be, but reputation? Not so easily. It was not until many years later, after George Banks Senior's death and several other radical alterations of life, that George Banks Junior found a flaw in such logic that indicated he had made a wrong choice. It would cause the memory of his Mem to commence haunting him. While reputation was difficult to secure anew, fated love was nearly impossible to come by a second time. This epiphany was aroused, of course, far too late to be of any assistance. 


	2. A Life Revisited

Dear Readers,

I am sorry for the lateness of this second chapter. I hope it isn't too confusing, though to some degree I guess it's supposed to be. Nevertheless, I thank you all, especially redneckqueen-93 for her continued support. As this is a quick little story, it will be done rather shortly. Hopefully not before I can clear things up ;). Thank you all so very much again ! Please enjoy!

-Margo

* * *

An evening eight years after this ill-starred evening had faded away - as has already been suggested - found George Banks in a state of terrible inner discord. Long before had he scythed the path of rewarding desire. Though as the years progressed George, enervated by such a laborious task, had begun to lighten his burden. What the ensnared and befuddled man could not fathom, however, was that he rid himself of all that had once provided him with a genuine identity. Lost were his fascinations for the inner working of the mind and the behavioral patterns of others, for he had arrived at a point in his life where he could no longer understand the interiors of human beings, including in this generalization - in moments of great disparity - himself. Guilt for his own hypocrisy made George abandon the steadfast dedication he had once offered to those he truly held dear. In truth, he had expended it all to Meriam and ultimately to the honor of his father, who in death could no longer hold ascendancy over his life. George, too, had surrendered his bachelordom to a woman who had been much more agreeable in theory than in manner. In addition to the Mrs. George Banks, George had also found himself the father of an heir and heiress to his estate. While to the exterior of society a more perfect picture of stability could not be illustrated, only the gentleman's abstract mind could view such flawlessness as disconsolateness. In all reality his chosen Winifred, though as honorable as could be, had never held more interest or concern in her husband than he had in his wife. Her wantonness, too, was deeply embodied in both of their children. His family's chaotic behavior had long ago repelled George from the lot of them. Try as he might, he could not employ one able nanny to instill order to the home's nursery. The only thing seemingly more impossible than quelling Jane and Michael was predominating Winifred's life. He could not try to harness the exuberance his spouse possessed for the varieties of social justice she naively rallied for, unable to inflict pain onto another woman by his own hand and knowing the rebellion that would ensue would only make matters worse. And so, George employed his only option. He retreated into the sanctuary of his professional life, where he could always rely upon the dependability of facts and figures. His bank became his infatuation, and only there, away from the stifling confines of his home on Cherry Tree Lane could he be truly at peace. This comfort was quite an expense, however, as it made the man into something he had once never wanted to become: one driven by sense and logic, who exerted all is time and energy to works of the mind, and consequently left the heart cold and vacant. It could not be helped. George Banks had long ago justified his path to himself by insisting that he was doing what was best for his family, despite their lack of appreciation for his prestige or efforts. Someday, he was confident, he would receive his reward. 

And on that particular evening, as he hypnotically gazed into the living room fire, George Banks felt he was almost within grasp of his accolade. While a day off from the bank usually transformed the man into a monster, some very unexpected surprises marginally lightened his mood. As it turned out, the sacrifice of his morning to interview nannies - just one of many tasks dear Winifred's mind seemed incapable of completing - had brought the oppressed soul new hope. Though his pragmatic mind would insist otherwise, the woman hired seemed sure to realign the family. George was convinced of it, so much so that his locked heart for the first time in so very long opened to release a sort of complacency into his being. It was a spell only his Meriam was capable of.

His muted stewing was interrupted however by a burst of melon-colored energy that instantly replaced solitude with vivacity. Winifred Banks sought to take advantage of her husband's newfound contentment.

"George, have you any particular plans for this evening?" She questioned, repositioning the wide-brimmed hat upon her golden sculpture of hair.

"Not particularly, Winifred," George responded with a little more than his typical-halfheartedness, though after a moment of eye contact, he found himself staring once again into the dancing orange flames. "There is some household business I'd like to straighten out, the usual paperwork and what have you, but-"

He was interrupted by the excitement brimming within the little woman, who rocked back and forth on her heels. "How wonderful, George! I was hoping I'd be able to slip out for the evening. The girls and I have been informed of a surprise demonstration popping up at-"

Not wanting the headache he felt sure was coming on to destroy his mood, George interjected. "Certainly, Winifred. As you wish. Are the children tended to for the evening?"

"Oh, yes dear," the blonde informed. "You made a wonderful selection of nannies. You do have such wonderful intuition. They've been seen off to bed already - but, I really must go, my darling! Goodbye!"

"It is only a misfortune that I cannot handle that intuition more deftly," George grumbled after the slamming of the front door could be heard. The bewildered man remained planted between the foyer and the living room when Ellen bustled through, taking advantage of the undisturbed house to complete what chores the chaos of the afternoon prohibited her from.

"Ellen," the master's voice rang as the stout redhead fussed about straightening furniture. Immediately, she halted in the midst of her task and trodded over.

"Yessir?"

"If the nanny is through with her duties for the evening, please direct her to my study. I should like to speak with her about her role within this household."

"Yessir!" Ellen complied after George had dropped his hard words upon her ears. Up the stairs she went, and George retreated across the living room.

* * *

Several moments later, Mister Banks watched his brass door knob twist, emitting a tall figure decorated in stripes. She stood for a moment, undaunted by the gentleman, before he motioned for her to sit down. She disregarded the request. 

"I could hardly say I recognized you," George recovered, a bemused air overtaking him.

"I could say the same," the woman informed him, taking a step closer to examine him as he stood on the opposite side of his desk. Her deep blue eyes pierced George, sending a shiver throughout his body. "Your face has grown quite careworn, your eyes are languid, too - but, ah! There it is. That gleam, however dim, still remains." She continued her examination of him as one might survey an oil painting, indifferent in word choice for knowing that if the painting could harbor emotions, there was no way for it to express them. But what the woman took for granted was the fact that George Banks had not yet been reduced to the state of a gallery occupant.

Disregarding her careful perusal, a scowl crossed his face. "But whatever are you doing here, Mem?" Observing her eyes begin to hint at fierceness he corrected himself. "Mary! Is that what you're going by now?"

She sighed emphatically. "The constant repetition of 'Meriam' does invoke a sort of torpidness, and well, 'Mem' has become linked to some rather negative connotations over the years." She eyed him pointedly at this, and without meaning to, made George's heart practically burst. He quickly regained himself.

"Why do you torment me so here?"

"Torment _you_? Really, Mister Banks! You have been doing a fine job of tormenting yourself over the years, I trust. You can thank that inbred 'queerness' my family harbors for knowing as much."

The reappearance of Mem had struck a chord with George. Never had anyone else been able to inflict him with such pain, though she, he noted, seemed as composed and self-assured as ever.

"I suppose you've enjoyed watching me struggle then? Peering into my tribulations with perturbing glee? Following my every move?"

Mary laughed wholeheartedly. "You flatter my abilities and yourself far too much. I merely know the gist of the story. Father told me of your engagement and marriage to one Winifred Haimes, that one that always tried to involve herself in any act of self-liberation, too many of them apparently, to keep her family content. And your family thought _I_ was too strange . . . " She related none of this with even the slightest hint of malice, only genuine amusement. "Oh, and of course I know of those two children of yours. Michael so strongly resembles you, Jane her mother. I fear for them, Mister Banks. It's for them I have arrived."

George, however, was not quite so amused or accepting of his own story. "Under what pretenses do you dare do that?"

But the brunette merely smiled. "None whatsoever. You advertised for a nanny, I arrived - it is you who hired me. As for how I managed to discover the disarray they're faced with, well - some things speak for themselves, Mister Banks."

He could have cried out, so overpowering was the absurdity of the situation. The one he had wronged so long ago had returned to aid him. She had not changed at all, and he could not help but wish time could be turned back, that his mistake could be avoided.

"But why aren't you with your own children? Your own family?" George demanded.

This inquiry surprised her. "I have none - of my very own at least." She said simply.

"You never married, then?"

"Well, no, of course not!" For one fleeting moment, Mary appeared genuinely hurt. "Perhaps you could find it within yourself to love again, but I could not. My heart told me who I was destined to be with, Mister Banks. After he discarded me, it was just as impossible to redirect fate as it was to settle for someone lesser. I could not do it. I would not do it."

The simpleness with which Mem reduced the equation rallied George to come round the desk. He placed his hands on her shoulders, on the personage he never dreamed of holding again. "Mem, I never-"

"_Don't_." She insisted forcefully, stepping out of his grasp. "I've not come here to make any more division between your family and yourself. I am here for Jane and Michael, so that they may not make the same mistake that you have. I consider it my duty to them - to all children - as a nanny."

"But why?" Mary watched the man's eyes as he uttered this simple question, causing tears to spring to her own orbs as they had to George's.

"Because I have lived with the wrath of error. Allow me to do my job, Mister Banks, and I shall give you the same respect. The only identity your wife and children have ever had for me is 'Mary Poppins,' and so will you. 'Meriam Poppins,' has passed on, Mister Banks."

"I know," he uttered. "I have murdered her."

"Then do help her ghost to achieve peace." And with that, she left the room, making George Banks realize the truth. Before that moment, his soul had never truly been void.


	3. A Life Redeemed

Dear Readers,

I can hardly believed more than a year has passed since I posted the second installment of this story, but at the very least I can tell you that with the following chapter written, it is now completed.

This has always been a rather odd story, and this rather odd finale takes place in between various scenes within the last 10 minutes or so of the movie. I'm confident you'll understand it.

I hope that this has been worth the wait, though I am very much doubtful that it ever could be. My sincerest gratitude to anyone who remains to read this ending, and perhaps shares this feeling about it. I am also very much obliged to that one particular person I shall name below.

Thank you so very, very much! Enjoy (finally)!

Always,

Margo

* * *

_To Elizabeth Lakecrest, whose ardency may be attributed to this story's completion. I offer you my greatest thanks._

* * *

In that one fortuitous moment, before the bank's entire board of trustees, had the sinews responsible for upholding George Banks' decorum snapped. Only after fleeing far from the hideous facade was comprehension of the queer occurrence possible.

Youthfulness had returned to him - not through anything he had dared to hope for or by proxy anything he had attained. Youth had only returned to George Banks through what he had escaped. Immediately the most recondite fragments of time aligned to form the whole truth. It was she who had made him young again.

With vehement rapacity did George Banks flee the misty evening and bolt down the craggy staircase to his cellar, anxious to come upon the only place in his home where he could exonerate his long-imprisoned mirth without arousing the slumberers of the stories above. It startled him to observe something within the dankness stirring, but his undulant felicity was upon him once again as what beams of light the basement harbored were reflected back upon him from the two glassy blue orbs that drew near. Had this been any other moment in the past eight years of the stodgy banker's life, he would have demanded an explanation from Mary Poppins as to what her purpose there was, but by then he understood. His clamorous behavior desisted the moment her eyes turned upon him.

"I simply can't believe it," George Banks muttered, never ceasing to absorb the incandescence that sprung from her immediacy. "I almost don't want to believe it."

"And why ever not?" Came Mary Poppins' starchy reply. But she was not able to hold the tone for long, and soon a radiant smile diffused across her visage, shaken gently by the tremor of laughter in her throat. She understood all that had occurred, and it was she who set the precedence that this victory was to be shared together.

George Banks paused for a moment to draw in breaths, wondering if that would revive the tangibility of his flesh. "I don't know what happened, Mem," he began, though she did not protest his use of the name.

For a moment, the adult returned to Mr. Banks before assimilating with his youthful exuberance. "Well, of course, I do know what happened. I was let go from the firm. I know why. But what I can't understand is how _I_ released myself from _it_. But no! I understand that, too. It was you! It was you - all along it has been you, and I've not been able to comprehend it!"

Mary Poppins respectfully laid her palm across his own upturned hand before raising her eyes to him. They sustained the connection for a long moment as she pleaded. "No, it has always been you. Promise me you will never forget that."

"It's impossible!" He insisted, retreating to sit upon a dusty crate.

"But it isn't," she asserted from over his shoulder. "It has all been inside you - your true beliefs and feelings and desires. I could tell they remained within you from the moment I returned. My whole attempt may have been futile were it otherwise. I needed only to show you where they still lurked - I needed only the children, your beautiful and hopeful children, to help you recover yourself. It was them, it was them! It was you."

George Banks repositioned his face to better view hers and realized those mystical orbs, much like his own heart, must be breaking, for their tiny facets rolled down her cheeks in the form of tears.

"And look how I have upset you so! Even now, after abandoning your feelings far behind me on the path of my life, after encountering you on this road once again beyond any wish I could have conjured, I can do nothing but draw tears from your eyes."

"No," she murmured, laughter shining through her salient maelstrom. "Don't let me alarm you, please. You have no idea how happy I am!"

"After all this time," he muttered. "From the moment you set foot here, I have been attempting to undermine you. And in the end you defeated me anyway - only to allow me to triumph. I do realize that now, Mem, as unworthy as I may be. I am beginning to understand."

"Very good," Mary Poppins insisted, growing composed. "Because I will be leaving you all today, once everyone has awaken."

But this message only sent Mr. Banks reeling once again. "But how can you? We shall all fall to shambles once again! Who will the children have to support them? Who will Winifred have to maintain order for her?"

She smiled. "Why you. Of course, you will return to the bank, too. You must return."

George discarded his first line of inquiry to focus on Mary Poppins' latest statement. "But they'll never take me back, even if I desired to go! I've disgraced the entire structure. I've disregarded all of the partners - I've made them out to be fools!"

"And that is exactly why they will summon you back. They should never want you for an opponent now that you have proved you can best them. They will want you back among them. It is the safest place for them to put you."

"And you are saying I should return?"

"Of course you should! Can't you remember what happiness it used to bring you? Focusing not on the monotony but on the absurdity? You have invested your entire life into that bank, Mr. Banks, you must go collect now."

For a moment, he paused to consider her as they sat side by side. "What about that young chap in the streets, Mem? The chimney sweep, Bert?"

"What about him?" She inquired steadfastly, not understanding this new line of thought.

"I know he is not of a lofty station, but I know, too, that such a thing means nothing to you. And I believes he loves you, what with the reasons he's devised to come here so frequently. You can't deny it, Mem. I've crept around many starlit pavilions in my day, at those parties, where I thought you might lurk. I know what I'm talking about. But yes, yes, the point. Don't you return the sentiment? Couldn't you be very happy with him?"

She simpered at Mr. Banks' efforts, glancing downward momentarily. "Of course I love Bert very dearly, and the time we have passed together has been most pleasant. But it couldn't be. It was not meant to be. It would be a most self-effacing sacrilege if I fooled myself into believing it should be. You can't deny it, I am qualified to speak of it."

He grew further ashamed of himself. "Look what I have jettisoned, Mem. My life and your heart."

"Now, now," she insisted comfortingly. His eyes met her own once again. "You've done no such thing. You've a beautiful wife and children up there who love you so very dearly, and who will be mortified if you don't return to them very soon. And here I am, still alive and very happy. Even when things are not in the order one expects them to maintain, existence continues. Remember that. I've straightened all I can. Goodbye."

With that final bit of simplicity, Mary Poppins rose, and after George Banks withdrew his hand from hers, she continued out of his sight to the world above. He followed in his time, many hours later, after he had fully absorbed her words.

* * *

The queerest of weights hung within Mary Poppins' throat as she held back the window dressing and gazed at the salubrious Banks family dancing in the street below. She still loved him, of course, and she always would, along with the wife and children that would forevermore be responsible for making him happy and permitting reciprocity of his affections. If she had ever quit loving him, she would have been embittered long ago. She never would have returned, she never would have cared.

But Mary Poppins, the magical oddity that she was, felt more human at that moment than perhaps any soul upon the earth could feel. Her ravished heart had been healed by returning that true spirit of George Banks that had gone astray - the spirit she had so deeply fallen in love with those years ago. And yes, he left her behind just then, as he had done so previously, but Mary Poppins had never wished for anything more. She had exhibited her love that could only be George's to the highest possible degree, and a soothing sort of quietude infiltrated her crux. A tear begged to be released from its long captivity as she glided down the bannister one final time, but she ignored its pleas.

Setting to the skies one final time quelled whatever agitation she could ever have against her fellow beings. Perhaps happiness had not been meant for her in this lifetime as Mary Poppins. How remarkable it was, she thought, that she had obtained it anyway.

Perhaps she was now prepared to find happiness elsewhere, equipped with such intricate knowledge and emotions that had derived from it. One day she would discover what lay beyond those clouds. In the meantime, a most unearthly peace radiated from her.

"_Goodbye, Mary Poppins. Don't stay away too long."_

Bert himself sensed that rare tranquility as she smiled back at him. Simultaneously did he understand that she would never return to them, but this only increased his happiness. The never-fading serenity of her countenance, the immortal youth that embodied her proved she had not been wearied or condemned by this tragic world. She would have the strength to journey on in rapture.

And looking about him, at the gaiety of the children, the felicity of the Banks family, he realized that she would never truly leave this world, either.


End file.
